A Corrupting Darkness

Prologue

The Elvenking of the Woodland realm, The King of Mirkwood, King Thranduil son of Oropher has just finished his war with the Orcs allied with Dwarfs, Men, and well eagles in the Lonely Mountain. Sadness and anguish surround him and his journey back to Mirkwood, his son, his only son Prince Legolas Greenleaf has decided to not to go back to Mirkwood with him. This made the King realize how actually he cared for his own son, a son that was left from his past wife and he regrets at how he treated him all these years, how he neglected his own blood just because of the sorrow of losing. Passing through the Lake-town again, Thranduil let some of his man to stay and help the villagers to build their city for the sake of upcoming winter. He continues his journey with the rest of his armies and one of his most trusted soldier Orodion back to Mirkwood, loneliness haunts him on all the way back. Reaching the land of the forest near the northern part of Forest-river, Thranduil cannot help but to let all the memories he had within this forest flooded his mind, riding his own mighty Elk in a distracted mind, his mind wondering over the memories from thousands of years ago, a couple of hundred years ago, he wanted to cry that once again he realizes he never explore this wonderful forest with his son. But so something cry for him, the whimpering sound of an elleth (she-elf), thinks he would mishear? Oh, no way he is an elf, an elvenking perse, his hearing would never miss. Seems like all of his companions also heard that crying sound,

"Did you hear that Orodion?" says Thranduil stopping his Elk, watching his surroundings with his cold curious eyes and trying to catch more sound,
"Yes, my Lord. It cannot be mistaken, it must be a crying sound. Do you wish me to check it out?" answer Orodion ready to draw his arrow and sliding off his brown horse. 
"No, let me." Thranduil says sternly, Orodion cannot help but to put a perplexed expression on his face, it is not an ordinary thing for his king to check on some matter like crying sound on his own.

Sliding off his Elk, Thranduil draw his beautifully forged sword and walks into the forest, searching for the origin of the sound. He passes three big oak trees and he starts to hear the whimpering sound again, to the left, to his left he hear the sound more clearly. He then tries to circle the weird looking Beech tree on his left searching for the origin of the sound, it is weird because this forest only supposed to have Oak trees, but this Beech tree stand on all its mighty in the middle of thousands oak trees of Mirkwood. He finds it, the origin of the sound. An elleth indeed, a fair one, beautiful one even her condition was not at the best, she looks injured, shivered from the cold with just simple thin clothes and indecent coat, she looks so ill as she leans back against the big Beech trees crying out of fear. Her waist long black hair is a mess, full with some small branches, dirt, and dry leafs, so is her face but somehow those dirt cannot conceal her beauty.

"Oh dear. Ier lle maer, híril nin?" (are you alright, my lady?) asks Thranduil crouching next to the fair elleth after putting back his sword, he puts a hand on her shoulder,
"Help me, hîr nin. It hurts." (my lord)  Answers the unknown elleth weakly trying to hold Thranduil's hand, her voice is hoarse trying her best to speak but somehow Thranduil could hear her soothing beautiful real voice. The other hand of the elleth clutch on her right side both eyes closed trying to hold the pain, and it is when Thranduil realize there's blood staining the elleth's thin clothes and coat. His face is sickening and full with worries, he holds the elleth's cold hand,
"Alright, don't move, híril nin. Orodion!" Thranduil screams for his soldier, hoping he would come as fast as he can to save this fair lady. 

________
Who is that fair elleth? What possibly had happened to her?
We'll find out soon enough.

A/N
I hope this is good enough! I'll try my best for this story because I'm pretty excited about the whole concepts and ideas!

Márienna, mellon nin!
Farewell, my friend!